


Day 9

by problematiquefave



Series: Kinktober 2018 [9]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, Hand Jobs, Kinktober, Lingerie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 16:39:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16245644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematiquefave/pseuds/problematiquefave
Summary: Troy stumbles across something he wasn't supposed to see. It has a happy ending.





	Day 9

“ _What_ are you wearing?”

Nick’s head shoots up, his arms crossing his body as if to shield himself – from Troy’s gaze, from the cold air, from the flush of his embarrassment. But it doesn’t do much because he’s wearing a pale pink baby doll that’s more lace and mesh than actual fabric – and it doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

“Something I found?” Nick offers in response, though it does little for the confused look on Troy’s face. It would be kind of funny if he weren’t half-nude in women’s lingerie and the door to the hallway is still open behind him, meaning anyone and everyone at the bazaar could potentially walk by and see his… Well, his kink.

He’s feels good like this. He loves the texture, the openness, the look of it. Gloria had never minded – she’d pat his cheek and tell him he looked better than her anytime he stole her stuff, whether explicit or not. It wasn’t something he got to share with Luciana, their time together too brief, but this desire hadn’t disappeared when the world ended. He wasn’t interested in wearing skirts or dresses but sometimes he wanted to put on a little lace and admire himself in the dingy mirror. This wasn’t the first time he’d done it but it was the first time Troy, who he shared the room with, had seen it.

And Troy… He’s still speechless. He’s got a canvas sack hanging off his arm, undoubtedly full of food and other goods, and he’s stock still. He hasn’t moved an inch, not even to the close the door. Nick holds back a sigh as he gets up, his arms still wrapped around his chest as he pads behind the older man and shuts the door with a click.

His back is to Troy, his eyes shut tight. They’re less than a foot apart and he still hasn’t said _anything_. Nothing past that initial question. It’s like he’s a robot, considering and computing some new piece of information. Honestly, there are times when Nick wonders if that isn’t the truth but those times don’t usually  involve him being half naked.

It is what it is though and he has to face this. Nodding to himself, he opens his eyes and turns around. Troy has moved, turning to look at him, but nothing about his expression gives away what he’s feeling. Damn it. Nick sucks in a deep breath, opening his mouth to defend himself or whatever else he has to say but he never gets a chance.

He doesn’t because Troy _kisses_ him.

The bag of supplies drops to the ground with a thud. His lips are heavy and forceful against Nick’s but his hands are gentle as they reach to cup his face. Nick blinks with surprise, suddenly the one that’s frozen, but he thaws much quicker than Troy did and returns the kiss. His eyes shut, he presses back, and he breathes through his nose. It’s by no means the best kiss he’s ever had; Troy is rough, overcompensating for clear uncertainty, but something about it sends electric sparks racing through his veins.

When Troy pulls back, opening his blue, _blue_ eyes, he looks dazed. Maybe he’s confused with himself – with his feelings, with his thoughts, with his actions – or maybe Nick’s just that good a kisser. The younger man knows which one he thinks is more likely and Troy’s following stammering (“I didn’t—You don’t—What are—?”) gives him conformation. He doesn’t last that long, dragging him down into another kiss quickly.

Maybe they should talk about it. Maybe that would be _healthy_. But Troy is the definition of emotionally constipated and Nick has dealt with him enough to know that he wants this. His looks, his touch, his everything says as much. So Nick takes the lead, in the kiss and in their movements as he shoves Troy back towards one of the twin-sized beds. He lands with an ‘oomph’ and doesn’t get a chance to readjust before he’s on his lap, pressing their bodies and lips together.

He can feel Troy’s hardness trapped in his jeans, bulging out, and _damn_ if it doesn’t do funny things to his feelings. He sneaks a hand between them, undoing his jeans and haphazardly pushing them down just enough to free his cock. Nick is hard too, equally constrained by his frilly, impractical underwear, but he likes it like that – likes it as he grinds down on Troy, pushing a hand up his shirt.

Troy doesn’t take long to come undone. Repression is terrible for length but there’s no disappointment in how quick his muscles are to tighten, his toes are to curl, and for him to come between them. It _feels_ amazing for Nick just to watch him like this, to watch him unravel, his eyes to shut and his lips to part and posture loosen. How many people have seen him like this? He doesn’t need to ask because he knows – not many, and Nick is one of the few.

And it’s great.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and thoughts are appreciated! You can also find me on [Tumblr](https://problematiquefics.tumblr.com/).


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